


parhelia

by cibmata



Category: The Creatures | Cow Chop RPF
Genre: Angst, Drabble, Fake Chop, Gen, M/M, Past Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-29
Updated: 2019-01-29
Packaged: 2019-10-18 23:26:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17590412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cibmata/pseuds/cibmata
Summary: The sun shines out of spite.





	parhelia

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kiden](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiden/gifts).
  * Inspired by [all night diner](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16733826) by [hrtbnr (kiden)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiden/pseuds/hrtbnr). 



> spiritual successor to j's [all nite diner](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16733826) because i can't let anything be happy!
> 
> written while drunk on a train and unedited

The sun has been shining for days.

It’s insulting, frankly, all this light and heat after days of rain. The clouds had parted only a day after...  _after,_ and the sun's been shining ever since.

Aleks can’t bring himself to go outside, mostly.

He sits in his apartment and he starts drinking as soon as he wakes up. Passes out for hours at a time on his couch and then starts drinking again because there’s no reason to be sober if he’s not going to leave the house.

He doesn’t go into his bedroom. He sleeps on the couch. He drinks.

He’s aware of the passing of time, sort of. He’s aware of the sun rising and setting, brilliant golden light streaming into his living room, up and down.

He’s aware of the passing of time, the rise and fall of the sun. Brett texts him, the same time every day. Nothing forceful. Always just _hey man let me know if you need anything_ , always _we’re thinking about you_ , always _call me if you need me._

Aleks hates it with a depth he doesn’t know that he’s ever experienced before.

He’s well acquainted with hatred. Hate is easy. Anger is easy. It’s what’s driven him this far, outside of… well. Outside of love. Outside of joy, the kind that he never thought he was deserving of, that he never knew existed outside of movies and storybooks and TV.

But it existed. It had.

It doesn’t anymore, but it had.

On the seventh day, God rested. On the seventh day, Aleks leaves his apartment out of spite, mostly.

He walks aimlessly. Doesn’t drive, just wanders his neighbourhood in directionless zigs and zags until he could almost be lost. Until he’s drunk enough that yeah, maybe he is lost. He feels lost.

On the eighth day he doesn’t remember much of anything but he wakes up in the early evening with his knuckles busted open, scabbing over. His bathroom mirror is broken. He doesn’t remember.

He stays in his apartment. He feels lost.

On the ninth day he wakes up. There’s half a bottle of vodka left. There’s no food and there are a dozen empty bottles scattered across his living room floor.

There’s half a bottle of vodka left until there isn’t. And then he has to leave the apartment.

He goes to buy liquor, first, because he has to. It’s a necessity now. A priority.

But on his way home he passes the diner. Or he tries to pass it but he’s walking and somehow he finds himself inside, sitting in their booth. His booth, now, because there’s no _their_ anymore.

They bring him his food. They don’t give him a second glance. He doesn’t eat.

He leaves too much money on the table with his untouched plate. He leaves too much of himself behind in the diner and he walks home and out of habit more than anything he showers by himself for the first time in a week, maybe. Out of habit more than anything he dries himself off, alone, and crawls into his cold, unmade bed. Alone.

He’s alone now. He’s alone and he’s sobering and his stomach aches and his heart aches.

He curls up. He shakes. Because this is where he’s supposed to do that. This is where he’s supposed to be safe.

He curls into himself because there’s no one to curl into but himself and he’s alone.

He feels lost.


End file.
